


Love, Life, and Soulmate Scars

by AnotherFacelessAuthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Complete, Confusion, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy, Happy Ending, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Requited Love, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, im such a sucker for the first kiss and run away thing im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29530611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherFacelessAuthor/pseuds/AnotherFacelessAuthor
Summary: A short but sweet wolfstar AU where scars left on one soulmates body will heal and appear on the other's.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, wolfstar - Relationship
Comments: 27
Kudos: 173





	1. Marks and Mates You Can't Shake Off

**Author's Note:**

> Just as before, Fuck JKR. Transphobia is bs and queer-phobia of any kind will not be permitted on this page.
> 
> Also, Hogwarts starts at age 15 because I said so, that's why. (bc it works better this way ok!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick cw for brief, casual mention of domestic abuse

Sirius Black hated his soulmate. He’d decided it long ago, but the idea ran through his mind once again when he awoke with a giant, mangled scar tearing across his face. His  _ face _ .

At least Sirius had the decency to keep his own injuries within the reasonable bounds of clothing. How was he supposed to hide the raised bump that traveled from above his left eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and down below his lip? It had marred his right dimple, a crucial part of the charismatic, winning smile he was so well known for.

How did one even get a cut such as that? It had to be intentional, Sirius was sure of it. The scars always showed up like clockwork, a little over four weeks apart for as long as he could remember. He imagined his soulmate with a switch knife or razor blade, carving into his own skin just to taunt Sirius. The guy must be a sadist or something, Sirius reckoned, though the idea made him grimace.

His soulmate. A lunatic.  _ Great. _

The only upside was Sirius never had to feel the pain of the injuries. Just as he felt the pain of his own scrapes and bruises and the occasional unfortunate slicing charm by the hand of his mother but never bore the permanent reminders, so did his soulmate, whoever he was. However, as Sirius’ cuts healed slowly, the scar appeared on his soulmate’s skin, or so he assumed. It was just the way things worked.

Now he was off to a new school and he’d have to bear the weight of another terrible mark. It was bad enough already that he had to wear long sleeves even in the middle of summer to cover the winding marks up and down his arms, but there was no way to cover this newest scar.

He tried to smile in the mirror. The image made him sick. Sirius turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

***

Remus Lupin knew Sirius Black was his soulmate the first moment they met. He had already had a terrible morning, rolling out of bed too late with barely enough time to throw on his uniform and rush out the door.

Now on the train, he sorely missed the tea he often began his day with, coffee if he hadn’t slept well. And he  _ hadn’t _ slept well. 

As excited as he was to be at Hogwarts, Remus didn’t like everything that came with a new school. He’d had his fair share of wizarding schools, dodging friends like the plague so no one came close enough to find out his lovely little chronic problem. Dealing with the teachers alone made it worse, he couldn’t imagine how students would be. Being a werewolf was bad enough without the awkward interactions that came with being locked up every full moon.

He hated all of it. The pitiful glances as they shut the bars on this cage or that, the resentful grimaces as they slammed the door, the plain, uncomfortable closeness of having his wrists bound tight.

Remus shook his head and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he did so, Remsu overheard a conversation taking place outside the compartment he had so contentedly been sitting alone in.

“Blimey Sirius!”

“I know, terrible, right? The son of a bitch has really upped his game over the summer.”

“You know, I kinda pity the guy. That’s a lot of pain to go through all the time. Maybe he’s in a gang or something…” The voices grew louder, the speakers coming closer. Remus kept his head tucked in the book in his lap. He’d learned all the tricks to looking anti-social, unapproachable.

“You would be the sympathetic one. You don’t have to live with  _ these _ .” There was contempt in the speaker's voice, and a pause as he gestured to something. Remus consciously didn’t lift his head. They must’ve been just outside the compartment, voices growing ever louder.

“I can’t help it that Evans is more careful than your bloke.”

“Oh not this again,” a new voice joined the fray.

And then the doors opened.

The three boys continued their conversation as if no one were in the compartment. Remus fought the urge to glance up at them, but he didn’t want to draw their attention. If they were happy enough to carry on, ignoring his presence, then power to them.

Then a scarred hand waved between his eyes and his book.

Remus’ stomach dropped. He knew those scars. He’d made those scars.

_ A coincidence, surely _ , he reassured himself.  _ Plenty of people have scars on their hands. _

And then he looked up.

Remus inhaled sharply as the scarred boy came into full view, bright fluorescent lights highlighting the pale mark stretched painfully across his face. It was all he could look at. The boy was attractive, the ghost of a laugh still flickering on his face. Even the line etched from his eyebrow to his lip didn’t diminish his beauty.

_ My fault. _

Remus traced the familiar lines with his eyes, messy scars tucked into a half-buttoned collar, twisting up slender wrists, jutting across the back of the boy’s hands. He forced himself to tear his eyes away, swallowing.

_ My soulmate. _

_ Fuck. _

He turned his gaze to the boy’s companions. One of them was speaking, the lanky one with messed hair. The blond one was staring at him, a bit rudely.

“James Potter. Nice to meet you.” Remus looked James up and down and gave him a small wave. He tried to look as disinterested as possible, hiding the panic that seeped through his bones. He wished these boys would just leave him alone, stop staring at him as if they already knew his secret—make that two secrets. He was a werewolf, and their friend’s soulmate.

James sat, prompting his friends to do the same.

_ Fuck. _

_ Get out, get out, get out! _ Remus’ mind begged. He dropped his head back into his book. Maybe if he ignored them, they would just—

“What’re you reading?” the scarred boy—Remus assumed this was Sirius—asked with earnest curiosity.

_ Apparently not. _

Remus held up the cover for his onlookers to see. “Hogwarts: A History,” he replied plainly. He didn’t meet their gaze.

“Anything interesting in there?” James asked. Remus expected him to sound disinterested, to continue his conversation without waiting for a response, but the silence that followed compelled him to speak.

“Not much. Nothing on the secret passageways around the castle—that’s the real fascinating part.” Remus hesitated. He looked into Sirius’ eyes, “I’m going to find them all. Map it out.”

He blinked. Remus hadn’t told anyone that, though it was true. He’d been planning it out since he first learned he’d be going to Hogwarts. He didn’t have all the logistics planned out, how to find the passages (probably just searching he reckoned), how he was going to draw it all (Remus was a terrible artist), and of course, the spells to tie it all together, but Remus was set on it. He could figure it out, he was sure of it.

Sirius nudged his friends, “I reckon we oughta keep this kid around, what d’you think Pete?”

_ Oh Merlin _ .

***


	2. Fast Friends and Full Moons

The three boys, James, Sirius, and Peter, were hometown friends, Remus had learned. They kept  _ telling him things _ , as if they were friends. He wasn’t sure if they were terrible at picking up the signs that he wanted to be left alone or just found joy in exploring new ways to torture him, but they seemed to stick to him like glue.

To make matters worse, the boys had all been placed in the same dormitory, so Remus truly had nowhere to hide, to escape.

That was, until he started exploring the castle. Remus had always had a knack for finding nooks, hidden passages and secret doors in and around his home. Once, he’d discovered a latch hidden in the back corner of his local library, leading to a stack of antique books—first editions and signed copies, untouched since long before Remus was born.

Hogwarts was like a dream in that aspect. It seemed the castle had endless secrets to uncover—window sills with trick ledges that led to hideout spots, staircases that moved and shifted, paintings that looked like walls and walls that were actually doors.

Remus took to keeping a spare bit of parchment with him at all times, tucked in the pocket of his robes, on the off chance he found something new. Within a week, the entire page had been covered with sprawling, chicken-scratch letters, bent at this angle or that.

James seemed to remember his confession, occasionally stopping him in the hallway with a “There’s a trick stair that activates a passage to the dungeons,” or something similar. It was nearly always something Remus had already found but he appreciated the sentiment.

He responded with a curt nod and a half- smile, unsure of what else to do. Sometimes, long after James was down the corridor and out of sight, Remus would pause and wonder if he should’ve said thanks, or asked James to explore with him.

But with James always came the other two boys, confronting Remus with the reality of his relationship to the group. He was an outsider. They thought they wanted him around, sure, but they didn’t know about his condition. They didn’t know he was at fault for their friend Sirius’ scars.

In the dark, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Remus wondered how Sirius would react, learning that Remus was his soulmate. None of it was incredibly positive.

Sirius hated talking about his scars, but they were brought up enough, kids asking bizarre questions about his soulmate. Remus always dug his head into the nearest book whenever the subject arose. He could still hear how Sirius talked about the guy.

_ He hated him.  _ He wasn’t shy with the fact. For the most part, Sirius just laughed off the questions, making some offhand comment or joke, but Remus could hear the resentment burning just below the surface.

Remus tucked his knees into his chest and tried to sleep. It never came.

***

A few weeks into school, Remus had taken to studying with his dorm mates. He knew he shouldn’t; he knew letting people close was dangerous, but they were just so insistent. Peter never failed to invite him to sit with them, offering the empty chair at their circle table.  James and Sirius even laughed at his jokes, when Remus relaxed enough to make them.

And he had to admit, it was nice. To have people to just be with. To see a friendly face in the Great Hall during breakfast, or an empty seat saved for him in Transfiguration. James always leaned over, whispering, “Find any new secrets?”

Though Remus let himself be comfortable with James and Peter, he kept his walls up with Sirius as much as possible. It was difficult, though. There was something so disarming about his bark-like laugh, the way his smile lit up a room so easily. But Remus couldn’t risk falling for someone— _ anyone _ —but especially his soulmate. 

He resigned himself to only hang out with the boys in classes and at night, when he couldn’t avoid them.

Just as he made the vow, scribbling on the last available corner of his spare bit of parchment, Peter discovered the makeshift map. He reached over and snatched it out of Remus’ grip.

“Hey!” Remus protested as Peter poured over the page. His eyes grew larger with every passing second.

“Is this everything you’ve found? We haven’t even been here a month!” Peter exclaimed, drawing the attention of his friends. James and Sirius glanced over curiously, eyes locking on the messy handwriting.

Remus felt his cheeks heat up. “It’s not done yet,” he grumbled.

“I thought you were making a map?” Sirius grunted, tearing his gaze from the page to look at Remus. The curly haired boy fought the urge to avoid eye contact.

His face burned more, “Can’t really draw all that well.” He coughed awkwardly, “Figured I’d get to that later.”

James slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder excitedly, “Pete here’s a great artist!”

Peter grinned, looking back and forth between his own map of the castle and Remus’ handwritten notes. “Could I take these? Only for a few days,” he added hurriedly, seeing the look on Remus’ face.

“But if I find more—” Remus began, but he was cut off.

“I think we can spare a second piece of parchment for something this brilliant, Remus.” Sirius joked coolly.

And then it was established. The map would be a group effort.

***

Sirius couldn’t completely understand why he was so drawn to the lanky, freckled, curly haired boy, but he didn’t question it.

Remus was funny, and much smarter than he let on. Sure, he was booksmart, that much was evident by just how much all the professors loved him, but he was also witty, and asked the most strangely thought provoking questions if he could be wrangled into a conversation.

He was quiet, particularly around Sirius, though he couldn’t tell why. Sirius tried to make up for the silence with his own anecdotes, silly questions, and strange tangents. It was very easy to talk to Remus. 

In the moment between classes, or late at night when he couldn’t sleep, Sirius told the boy about his old family, about James and his parents how they’d taken him in after he’d run away, about his younger brother who he still missed from time to time.

Remus was a good listener. He never made Sirius feel silly for rambling on and on, as he was so prone to doing. He knew when to ask prompting questions and when to stay silent, waiting for Sirius to continue when he was ready.

Remus didn’t know exactly when it started, but suddenly he was spending all his time with James, Sirius, and Peter. Pulling pranks, studying for classes, and, of course, searching the castle for secrets. They’d even earned an (unintentional) group nickname from Professor McGonagall: The Marauders.

Remus was increasingly finding that he didn’t really mind when they were around. Even Sirius, even with all those familiar scars lining his arms, his presence became a comfort rather than a nuisance.

Until the full moon.

Remus remembered exactly why he wasn’t supposed to make friends on a chilled September night. He’d been anxious all day, trying to formulate a convincing lie.

He could say he had a headache, but he had no idea how long he’d have to stay in the hospital wing afterwards. Sometimes all he needed was only a few hours sleep, sometimes he needed a week's worth of healing spells.

He didn’t even know how he’d be locked up. He felt as if he’d seen the lot, any and all possible options for locking up a rampaging werewolf. Chains, cages, restraints. It was all very dehumanizing, but, he supposed, better than risking becoming a murderer once a month.

Finally, Remus settled on the classic  _ going to visit my Mum who’s sick _ excuse. He felt a twinge of guilt at all the pity-filled goodbyes sent his way, though he couldn’t tell why. He’d used it a million times and never felt all that bad about lying.

When he arrived at the hospital wing, Remus knocked carefully on the office door and waited, hands crossed behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels. After a moment, a thin, kind-looking woman emerged from behind the doors. She gave him a gentle smile.

“You must be Remus.”

He nodded silently.

“My name is Madame Pomfrey. I’ll be taking care of you after full moons, in addition to fixing up any cuts and scrapes you and your friends may get doing whatever you schoolboys get up to.”

Remus nodded again, unsure if he was supposed to respond.

“Now, I trust Dumbledore has explained to you exactly where I will be bringing you—” she cut off when he shook his head. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. “I’ll have to explain on the way down. Let’s go.” She beckoned him to follow her.

As the pair wound down spiraling staircases and started onto the grounds, Madame Pomfrey wove the strangest tale of an abandoned house and the borderline-murderous tree set to guard the entrance. Remus didn’t believe it until the evidence was right in front of him, a dilapidated, old, two-story shack. Remus looked over at Madame Pomfrey, wide-eyed.

“This for  _ me _ ?” He was incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief.

The woman smiled sadly and scrunched her nose. “I know, I tried to convince Dumbledore to enhance it, make it a bit more comfortable, but he said it would be too obvious—”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

If Remus had been younger, he might have hugged her.

The next morning, Remus came face to face with a problem that he had almost forgotten about. Scars.

He was covered in open wounds, small ones on his wrists and palms, larger ones on his chest and sides. Madame Pomfrey had him bandaged up by mid-morning and started layering on numbing spells to stop the pain. Still, they did nothing to quell the rising anxiety, bubbling over in his chest.

Sirius was going to get new scars.

***


	3. Broken Hearts and Brotherly Bickering

As September bled into October and the brisk air just hinted at frost, Sirius learned that Remus absolutely hated soulmate talk. They had never discussed it before; Remus hadn’t asked about all his scars like everyone else always did. It was honestly refreshing not to have to explain  _ no, he didn’t know who his soulmate was, and no, he couldn't figure why his soulmate had so many scars. _ So, Sirius hadn’t known just how strongly Remus felt about the subject until a fairly quiet Wednesday in October.

The Marauders were studying in the library, which is to say, Remus was studying, Peter just kept chewing on his quill nervously, and James and Sirius were chatting, casually levitating random objects as the urge struck their fancy. Sirius had been making a Transfiguration book fly circles around their heads when his sleeve slipped down, revealing his newest presents from his soulmate.

He groaned, letting the book float back to the table before yanking the fabric back up his arm. “You’d think—” he grumbled, fiddling with the wrists of his shirt, “that this bloke would give it a rest after so many years.”

Before anyone else could speak, Remus slammed his book on the table, shutting it with a clatter. Sirius flinched instinctively. “Will you shut up about your goddamn soulmate for a bloody minute?” Remus spat. He got to his feet and collected his things, sweeping the books into his bag and storming out of the library without another word.

Sirius exchanged a bewildered look with Peter, who’d finally picked his head up from where it was buried in an essay he hadn’t been writing. James made to stand, but Sirius placed a hand on his arm and stood himself, taking after Remus.

He was making himself dizzy with confusion as he raced to catch up for the boy who was angrily stalking away. He knew he’d been talking about it a bit, but what else was he supposed to do when more claw-like marks kept showing up every single month, adding to the endless tally of his body?

Remus’ long legs got him far down the hall before Sirius was able to catch up to him, alternating between a speed walk and a pitiful haf-jog. He caught his shoulder and tugged, perhaps a bit harder than he intended. Remus stumbled back, spilling the contents of his bag on the stone floor. An inkwell cracked, spilling dark liquid all over.

Remus swore under his breath. “Merlin, Sirius.” He bent down, trying to salvage his textbooks from the spill. Sirius blushed, hastily taking his wand out and siphoning the ink back into its container.

Remus huffed, lifting the last of his things and tucking it back into his bag and slinging it around his shoulder once more. He turned his back and began walking away.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius pleaded. “I didn’t know you hated it so much. I can stop it, if you’d like.”

Remus sighed and turned on his heel slowly. He tried his best not to sound as annoyed as he felt. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.”  _ Great. Conversation over. _

It appeared Sirius was not done, however.

“Does it really bother you that much?” It was an honest question, genuine curiosity.

Remus nodded, wishing he could just be left alone.

Sirius was walking with him now, unshakably matching his pace as he sped off to Gryffindor common room. “Do you already know yours or something?”  _ Damn he was good.  _ Remus desperately tried to think of a way to get out of the conversation, but came up blank. Instead, he tried to give the most vague, but complete-sounding explanation he could muster.

“Yeah,” his voice was curt and sharp, swallowing back all the anxiety and frustration. “Let’s just say neither of us are very happy with the pairing.”  _ Leave it there, _ Remus begged silently.

“Oh.” Sirius fell quiet for a moment. “Well, you met them so early… maybe you’re just supposed to grow into each other.”

They had reached the portrait hole. Remus gave Sirius a very pointed, knowing look. “Just like you’re going to grow into your ‘lunatic of a soulmate’?” The dull stabbing in Remus’ chest seemed to twist and ache when Sirius hesitated.

“That’s different,” Sirius reasoned. “I bet yours is sensible, I mean look at you! Hardly a scar to be found.”

Sirius couldn’t see the lights dimming in Remus’ mind, nor the heartbreak that flickered in his chest as everything crumbled to the ground. He only saw a touch of sadness reach his eyes, crinkling at the corner. There was a pained smile on his lips as he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m so lucky,” he deadpanned, and walked into the common room without taking another look back.

***

Life was uneventful—or rather, as uneventful as a life at Hogwarts can be with the Marauders—for the next month. Peter had finished his rendition of Remus’ map of Hogwarts (a much more legible copy), which had aided their search, and pranks incredibly. Remus found himself less and less irritated at the idea of sharing his creation as, by that point, they had all helped out in one way or another. Otherwise, Sirius kept true to his word and not another conversation was exchanged about soulmates. It was a relief. So much so, that Remus hardly had any anxiety (outside of the nervous energy that always surrounded him during a full moon) as he announced to his friends that he wasn’t feeling well, and marched out of the dormitory.

Until Sirius offered to walk him down.

“Oh, no—it’s alright, really.”

“Nonsense,” Sirius rolled off his bed and stood, clapping a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Can’t let anything happen to the brains behind every Marauder’s operation, now can I?”

“Hey!” James’ protest melted into a yawn. “I thought I was the brains?”

“You’re just the idiot who’s lucky enough to get away with it.”

“Charming enough, you mean.”

“Yeah right. Tell that to Evans.”

“Oh, very funny—”

Remus looked at his watch, following the hand as it ticked closer and closer to the moonrise. James and Sirius got like that sometimes, spats of brotherly bickering. When he didn’t have a very strict deadline to meet, it was pretty entertaining. “What was that you were saying about walking me down?” he interjected quickly before they could get to wrestling.

“Right.” Sirius turned on his heel. At the door, he hesitated. “This isn’t over, mama's boy.” He jokingly pointed between himself and James.

James’ retort, “Anytime, inbred,” was only barely out when Sirius shut the door behind them.

The pair walked along in silence for a while, accompanied by the soft sounds of their shoes on the stone floor. Sirius kept glancing at Remus strangely, and it took all of Remus’ strength not to look back.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Sirius began.

Remus had almost forgotten his alibi. “Hm?” he questioned before clearing his throat awkwardly, “Oh, yeah. I’m okay, just think a night or two with Madame Pomfrey’ll fix me right up.”

“You really think you’ll be there that long?” Sirius almost sounded disappointed. Remus fought the urge to ask him why he cared so much.

“Yeah,” was all he gave in response.

They fell into silence again. 

They had nearly reached the doors to the hospital wing, the panic finally subsiding in Remus’ chest, when Sirius exclaimed, “We’ll come visit you!” His grin was so wide and goofy, Remus had to fight back a laugh until he fully processed the words.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

Madame Pomfrey opened her doors, ready to reprimand Remus for being late when her eyes fell upon his companion. She took in the panicked expression on Remus’ face and understood immediately.

“Of course we will!” Sirius spoke as if the matter was settled.

“Mr. Black, you better run off before anyone catches you out of bed.”

Madame Pomfrey spoke with a weight to her words that sent Sirius scurrying away with a final, “Feel better Rem!”

Remus didn’t breathe again until Sirius Black was around the corner and out of sight. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t shake him.” His hands were shaking anxiously.

Madame Pomfrey’s voice was soft and gentle as she reassured him it was okay. “You know, those boys seem to care about you a lot. It might be nice to have someone to share your burden with…” she trailed off, leaving the air open with possibility.

“No.” Remus had never been more sure of anything. He had spent fifteen years carrying the weight of lycanthropy all on his own, and if he could help it, that would never change. He didn’t need to risk anyone realizing he was a monster, or word getting out and suddenly no one would look at him the same way. There was nothing to discuss.

***


	4. Love and Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: allusions to physical abuse/domestic violence

Remus had warned Madame Pomfrey that Sirius and the boys were planning on visiting, so when the boys barged in the next day she felt well equipped and ready to block them, stating, “Remus is extremely contagious, I cannot allow you to—”

Evidently, the Marauders did not care about rules and restrictions… a fact Remus later admitted he should have known. They barged through the protective curtain and into Remus’ private corner of the wing, Sirius shouting something about sharing a dormitory and already being infected with the mysterious disease.

Remus did the only thing he could think to do; wrapped in bandages from the tips of his fingers and around his arms, he pulled the blanket from his lap over his head and feigned sleep.

His heart pounded as the thunderous footsteps raced closer, stopping just beside his bed.

Sirius was struck by two thoughts in rapid succession in that moment. The first of which was that Remus was certainly not sleeping. He ran warm, Sirius knew because he always tossed and turned in the moments when he finally drifted off to sleep. Not once had he slept completely under the covers, only a soft tuft of curls peeking out from under a bundle of covers. So Remus was not _really_ asleep.

And then he saw the bandages sitting on the side table, torn and discarded in a hurry. And realization washed over Sirius.

How could he have been so foolish, so blind? When he had been younger, Sirius had been begging for someone to recognize the signs in him, and now there he was, not giving a second thought to all the warnings in his friend. Remus was just like him.

He ushered the boys out of the room, sighing dejectedly with them, though internally alarm bells were ringing.

Remus didn’t come back to their dormitory for another two days, though each time Sirius entered his heart fluttered with worry and hope, just in case he was sitting there. It overtook so much of his mind that Sirius hardly even noticed the new marks on his hands and shoulders, showing up on their monthly schedule. When,  _ finally _ , Sirius walked in from a long, boring Potions lesson and Remus was there, tucked loosely under his covers, reading, it took all his strength not to rush over. He figured that would be a very lively beginning to a much more serious conversation.

Instead, Sirius walked purposefully, double checking that neither of their roommates were around. Remus only put the book down once Sirius had sat, making his presence known with a small cough. It was a moment before he started speaking.

“Hi,” Remus started slowly, already a touch suspicious.

“Were you… visiting your mom, last weekend?” Sirius asked carefully.

Remus wracked his brain. Only two moons and he was already losing track of his lies. Typically he had a better handle of things, but there was something in the way Sirius was looking at him, those stormy grey eyes and that long, jagged scar, and a hint of concern—it was disorienting, disarming. “No, I—I was ill, remember?”

Sirius nodded. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said quietly.

Meanwhile, Remus’ heart pounded.  _ Was it possible Sirius had figured it out already? _

“It’s just…” every breath Sirius took made Remus’ pulse skip a beat. “My parents used to… as well.”

Remus blinked.

“It’s just, well, I know we haven’t been friends for a lifetime, but they took me in so I’m sure James’ family would be willing to help—”

Clarity rushed in as Remus thought back to his own soulmate scars—sinister straight lines down his back and shoulders. “My family isn’t—” he blurted quickly. “They don’t… do that.”

“Oh.” The silence was taunt, stretched endlessly between them. “Okay.” Sirius stood. Remus wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he wasn’t asking any more questions which was a relief.

Sirius didn’t believe him. In fact, he nearly flinched when, about a month later, Remus announced again that he was ‘ill,’ and would be going down to the hospital wing. He remembered all those times he would stand in the mirror, twisting around painfully and examining the lines cut into his skin. He had been young then, still with his own family. His soulmate scars had been lower in number then, and he used to worry about what his soulmate would think, when he found the lines.

Sirius offered to walk Remus down to the hospital wing again, in the hopes that a confession might fall from Remus’ lips, but their walk was silent.

He hoped Remus wouldn’t let himself live in misery like that forever. He knew how difficult it was—how much courage it took to escape a family that hurt you.

It wasn’t until his newest scars showed up—a jagged line across his cheek and a few down his neck—that Sirius began to think any differently. He had been examining the new additions in the mirror, groaning dramatically every so often when the room felt too quiet.

Peter, exasperated from his bed, grumbled, “S’a good thing Remus’ ill ‘cause he wouldn’t put up with all your bloody soulmate whining.”

Sirius took his focus off the mirror. His mind began reeling. Remus wasn’t there. Come to think of it, he never had been when the scars came around, only ever a few days after.

_ Oh. _

It was a very silent revelation, though it rushed over him with overwhelming force. He tried his best to subtly look up at the calendar on the wall as a wild idea struck his brain. It tracked a whole bunch of things—the planetary movements, the constellations most visible, the days of the month, and the phases of the moon. There, in plain symbols, marked the full moon, the very same day Remus had fallen ill.

_ Oh. _

Sirius felt the extent of it all overwhelm him, standing there by the mirror, unable to move. He was staring himself in the face, tallied scars suddenly not seeming all that bad.

_ Remus. _

His soulmate.

A werewolf.

The theory was all well and good, but Sirius wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. He began observing his roommate, trying to pick up on any hints to prove or disprove his idea. The time between not-so-subtly asking Remus what his favorite phase of the moon was (new moon) or watching him in Defense Against the Dark Arts, looking for the tiniest of twitches when werewolves were mentioned, Sirius spent pondering why he didn’t seem to hate the idea.

He’d always hated his soulmate. The stupid guy who kept covering himself in tiny cuts and scars once a month like clockwork, leaving Sirius to carry the burden. But when it was Remus…

Maybe it was something about having a face to the strife, or perhaps it was the fact that Remus was a werewolf and hadn’t been intentionally marring Sirius’ complection. On that point, Sirius hardly seemed to mind the scars anymore. They almost made him smile sometimes, tracing the lines on his palms as they spiraled down his wrists. Even the long mark on his face, the one that cut squarely across his nose, didn’t seem so bad anymore.

It was only when, about a month later, Sirius was examining the jagged scar from his bottom lip to his chin and thinking, wondering, what it might be like to kiss Remus, that he felt he couldn’t keep his silence for much longer.

When Remus announced his sickness once more, on the night of the full moon, Sirius practically leapt out of his bed. “I’ll walk you down!” He volunteered enthusiastically.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay—”

“C’mon, it’s practically tradition at this point.”

Remus and Sirius’ twin hearts beat together, both racing in their chests.

They passed a few students on their way down, but no familiar faces. The pair made small talk, tension building with every passing second that neither revealed what they knew.

Eventually, Sirius couldn’t take it. The corridors were clear and they were nearly to the hospital wing. He spotted an empty classroom and, without warning, grabbed Remus’ arm and pulled him in.

“Wha—”

“Remus,” Sirius began, feeling every inch of the realness of the situation at hand. It was only then that he realized that he had no idea what to say.  _ Are you the soulmate who’s been leaving marks on my skin since we were kids? Do you, by chance, happen to be a werewolf and I’m your future husband? Any chance you’ll be transforming into a wild beast in the light of the moon tonight? _

He took a deep breath in and stared into the beautiful green eyes that were searching his own with confusion. “Are you my—”

He never got to finish the sentence. Remus, overtaken with panic and fear and whatever emotion could best be described as  _ oh wow, Sirius looks very, very good right now and he is very, very close to me _ , leaned in and closed the space between them.

Sirius’ parents had never told him what finding your soulmate felt like. The Potters had tried, however. Mrs. Potter said it felt like a first sip of lemonade on a warm summer’s day, refreshing and sweet. Mr. Potter had added that it felt like a big drop on a rollercoaster, that exhilarating swoop in his stomach. They were both wrong.

It felt like home and adventure in one—it felt like safety and warmth and security, and yet it tasted of freedom and new beginnings. Sirius shut his eyes and leaned into the kiss, pressing their lips together with energy and a small smile forming on his lips.

Remus froze, tensing up beside him. He took a step back, pulse racing. “Sirius, I—” he looked down at his watch, anxious energy feeling as if he were set to burst. “Shit.” Remus fled the room before Sirius could say another word.

***

Sirius spent the entire walk back up to Gryffindor tower replaying the moment in his head a million times over. He had considered following Remus to the hospital wing but where would that have gotten him? An awkward conversation? A run in with a transforming werewolf?

What was it that Remus had said?  _ Let’s just say neither of us are very happy with the pairing.  _ What was that supposed to mean, after Remus had just kissed him?

Instead of slowly going mad, Sirius barged into the boys dormitory. He was looking for James. The boy could be an airhead at the best of times, a bit of a prick at the worst, but he was always the person to turn to when Sirius had a problem. They relied on each other as family and friends. James had a way of making everything feel solvable, manageable.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Sirius prefaced. James grew serious almost instantly, whipping his head around from where he had been chatting with Peter. Sirius slumped over the bed between them, mumbling, “butIthinkRemusismysoulmate—”

“Whoa, slow down there Black,” James placed a hand on his friends back.

Sirius groaned with frustration and flipped over to his stomach. “I think,” he began, slower this time, “Remus is my soulmate, and I maybe kinda just kissed him and really liked it.”

Silence fell as the information was taken in.

Eventually, “And, all the scars…?”

Sirius hesitated, wondering if it was wrong to share his theory. Then again, he reckoned with himself, it wasn’t like he had any confirmation—and, if there was anyone he could trust to keep a secret, it was the Marauders. “I reckon he’s a werewolf.”

Peter snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

James thought about it for a moment. “He does seem to be falling ill a lot—”

“Right at the full moon, every month. I checked.” Sirius shook his head, “but that’s besides the main point, which is that I just kissed a boy and he ran away and now I’m freaking out—”

James fought down a snicker, “He… ran away?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

Sirius rolled his eyes, grabbing for a pillow to smack James around the head. “Checked his watch and bolted.” By the time he reached the pillow, all he wanted to was to curl around it and hug it tight. “What’m I supposed to do?”

“Well, mate, d’you wanna do it again?”

“Yeah,” Sirius responded without hesitation.

“Then I think you’ve got your answer, haven’t you?”

***

Remus hadn’t had a more stressful full moon in his entire life. In the moments between the agonizing stretching and pulling of his joints, and the throbbing soreness of the following morning, Remus anxiously thought about Sirius. His soulmate.

He’d figured it out.

And Remus had kissed him.

And worst of all it had been  _ good _ .

Remus had been hoping it would be terrible—messy and slobbery and enough to make him happy that Sirius hated him. That was not the case. How could kissing Sirius Black be anything but fucking magnificent?

He got his answer (it couldn't) when Sirius barged into the hospital wing for the second time in a year. This time, he wasn’t falling for any fake-asleep bullshit.

“Remus John Lupin,” he started almost angrily, rushing past Madame Pomfrey before she could stop him. He softened as soon as he saw him, sat up and wrapped in countless bandages and plasters. Sirius sat on the bed and lowered his voice. “Are you my soulmate?”

Remus’ heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t lie, could he? Was there any reason to?

Before he could answer, Sirius continued. “I don’t care if you’re a werewolf or just a clumsy bloody idiot who managed to get this many marks,” Sirius held up his hands for effect, “but kissing you last night made me feel something like I have never known before, and I just have to know if you felt the same.” His eyes were pleading, strong but desperate, hopeful.

“I did—I do.” Remus shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I am—your soulmate, that is.” And he smiled sheepishly and the entire room lit up.

Sirius took Remus’ face in his hands and kissed him until all the worry, all the anxiety coursing through his bloodstream had settled. It was so much better than their first kiss. This was long and slow and sweet; the sun rising over the mountains, the stars twinkling in the sky, the anticipation of love and life, together.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> if you did, and haven't read my other (longer) work, By The Moon, it's a (mostly) canon compliant wolfstar/marauders fic of 1971-1979, 65k, low-key my pride and joy, so definitely check it out if that seems like something you would be interested in! (plus, im working on a sequel to it rn so... get excited)


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